


Cats: Women's Best Friends

by aisydays



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Domestic, F/F, Fluff, Mentions of canon typical Melanie trauma, Mild Hurt/Comfort, The Healing Power of Cats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:49:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21877678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aisydays/pseuds/aisydays
Summary: From the first day they met, Melanie and Georgie have gotten along well. Really well, in fact. It's just a shame that Georgie's cat doesn't seem to feel the same way about Melanie that his owner does...~Spoilers for series three, pre-episode 157~~
Relationships: Georgie Barker/Melanie King
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28
Collections: Rusty Quill Secret Santa 2019





	Cats: Women's Best Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [buzzbuzz34](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buzzbuzz34/gifts).



> This was written for the Rusty Quill Secret Santa 2019!

“I don’t think your cat likes me”

Georgie snorted from where she was stood, carefully squeezing out a teabag on the side of a slightly chipped mug. She carried them both gingerly over to where Melanie was squatting, squinting into the eyes of the slightly bedraggled looking tabby kitten that cowered under the table.

“He's a rescue kitten. He barely likes me, and I feed him” she said, putting the mugs down on the table and joining Melanie where she was crouching. This close up, it was impossible to miss the soft spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose that Melanie had been very resolutely not staring at ever since they’d been introduced. It was a crime, she decided, watching the other woman tsk-tsk gently at the cowering kitten, that Georgie had decided to start a podcast. You couldn’t hear freckles on audio, although with a voice like Georgie Barker’s, it was almost as good. 

Melanie realised she had been staring and quickly looked away. She’d only met Georgie that morning, in a café along with a group of mates who were all interested in paranormal investigation - or more accurately, interested in making various programmes about paranormal investigation. Melanie had been dragged along by Andy solely for the purpose of gathering interest for Ghost Hunt UK, which was rapidly turning from an idea tossed around while slightly tipsy to an actual legitimate Thing, something that definitely wasn’t slightly terrifying. Luckily Andy was more than happy to do all the actual talking, and Melanie would have been happy to just sit back with a coffee and nod when needed, if it hadn’t been for Georgie. The other woman must have sensed Melanie’s discomfort, which admittedly was probably pretty obvious, and slowly but surely made her way over to sit by her. A few quietly muttered but still bitingly snarky remarks later, and Georgie had completely won Melanie over. 

Which had somehow led to them escaping early and going back to Georgie’s flat for tea and bitching, and to Melanie crouched down half under her new friend’s kitchen table, hand outstretched, making kissy noises to try and coax the terrified kitten towards her. So far, no luck. 

“I’m telling you” Georgie laughed, and god but Melanie could listen to her laugh all day. “He doesn’t even trust me yet. You’ve got to put the work in with him”

“Typical man” Melanie grumbled, staggering to her feet and picking up the mug, smiling slightly when she noticed the slogan on the side. “Georgie… why do you have a mug that says ‘Boo-tea-full’ on the side?”

The blush that spread across Georgie’s cheeks was somehow even cuter than her freckles. Melanie had to duck away to avoid her own face from flushing in solidarity. “It was a gag gift from… an ex…” Melanie couldn’t help but notice the way her friend’s face fell ever so slightly at that last word. Clearly a recent break up, or at least one that hadn’t gone well. She’d had enough experience herself with relationships that ended with screaming fights or stony silence to know the feeling a little too well. The quiet that settled over the scene was too much for Melanie to bear, too stifling and oppressive and far too reminiscent of every awkward moment she’d had to fidget through in her life. She smiled, hoping it wouldn’t betray her discomfort, and took a long drink from the mug.

“I mean, they weren’t wrong” she joked, turning the mug to appreciate the, frankly adorable, blushing cartoon ghost that accompanied the words. “This mug certainly is both beautiful, and full of tea!”

Georgie’s smile was possibly even less convincing than Melanie’s own, but at least it was back, even if it was tentative. “He certainly did have good taste in godawful novelty mugs. You should have seen the collection he had back in his house at uni, drove his housemates absolutely mad.” The light seemed to come back into her eyes at that, and Melanie had to fight down an irrational spike of jealousy. There was no use getting funny about some random guy with an affinity for amusing mugs who used to date a woman she may or may not have a crush on and probably won’t make any moves on anyway. 

Besides, everyone knows the way to a girl’s heart was through her cat. And Melanie would not rest until she won this kitten over. Although the first step might have to be to learn his name. Which she apparently had completely forgotten to do.

“Hey, Georgie, what’s your cat’s name again?”

The reply was delayed by a somewhat embarrassed pause before “…The Admiral”

“Why."

***

As it turned out, gaining the trust of a semi feral rescue kitten wasn’t as easy as it looked. Even as the Admiral grew up and started to become more open and trusting, winding around Georgie’s legs as she fed him or coming up to guests on the sofa and pushing his head into their palms to demand pets, there still remained a kind of animosity between him and Melanie. Admittedly, her visits to Georgie’s actual flat were few and far between, with the pair instead opting to meet at cafes or at conventions or events for paranormal investigators – events, Melanie was pleased to note, the Magnus Institute stayed far away from. Whenever she did go round to the other woman’s flat, however, she was never given the same warm welcome the Admiral gave to others. Georgie used to joke that Melanie was too much of a cat herself, what with her prickly exterior and aversion to physical contact unless she initiated it. Personally, Melanie just called that common sense, but she wasn’t going to argue. Later, after the Slaughter had to be forcibly ripped from her being, she wondered if Georgie had seen it even back then, reflected in the glint of her eyes.

Maybe the Admiral was just jealous. While neither of them were prepared to really say anything concrete at the beginning, there was no denying there was something between the two women, the same spark Melanie had been trying to deny back when they first met. The comfy routine of coffee dates and complaining about ghosts became a bit too… charged to just be considered friendship, and even though it sounded stupid, Melanie wondered if the Admiral could tell it too. She was hogging his owner’s attention, driving her from the house and depriving him of the cuddles he was clearly in desperate need of. It was like when families got new babies, and the pets could tell they weren’t the favourite anymore.  
Georgie laughed her head off when Melanie told her about her theory, and while she could admit it seemed outlandish, there was a part of her that secretly believed it was true. 

***

The first week after Melanie’s resignation from the Institute was… rough, to say the least. Her time in the hospital was mostly a painkiller induced blur – although only in the metaphorical sense. The constant darkness was overwhelming, experiencing nothing but the void in front of her. That was the hardest to get used to, harder even than moving around the room or feeding herself or any of the other countless tasks she’d taken for granted before. It was the monotony of it, of the constant unbreaking black before her.   
And yet, there was still such a feeling of relief. Melanie hadn’t realised how much just being in the Institute had drained her, the constant background paranoia wearing down every single day. The feeling of absolute powerlessness knowing there was no way out either, no way to get fired or leave on her own terms – at least, not until Jon had come to her, to all of them, and told them about Eric Delano’s statement. 

Part of her would always feel slightly guilty about leaving them. She and Basira had formed a kind of solidarity during those long, lonely months. It was strained and felt almost feral at points, a pack instinct she’d never quite plucked up the courage to talk to Daisy about, but it also kept her going, gave her something to fight for rather than against, an outlet for the constant burning rage in her veins – the fire that the goddamn bullet had been slowly fuelling before Jon ripped it out of her leg and took all her certainty with it. Basira hadn’t been much help then, admittedly, but not for lack of trying. There really wasn’t much precedent for how to help your friend when she removed the ghostly bullet that had been slowly turning her into the servant of an eldritch fear entity that was the personification of violence. Not to mention how the fact that Basira had been holding Melanie down during the impromptu surgery made it a little hard to look her in the eye afterwards. Melanie couldn’t help but choke back a dry laugh at the sudden thought that she’d find it fairly difficult to look anyone in the eye from here on out. Georgie would hate it if she said it aloud, but sometimes there was a kind of sick humour in her situation.

Georgie had been so good to her.

Melanie had many things she wished she could go back and tell a younger her – don’t go near that bloody hospital would be high on the list – but the idea of travelling into the past and telling the Melanie in 2012 that the cute girl she just met would not only end up her friend, but would become so much more than that. It felt so dumb and cliché to spout of empty platitudes about how Georgie was her rock, or someone she could lean on, but it was… kind of true. It had been Georgie she first spoke to about getting therapy, in a late night, post-surgery phone call that was more ragged sobs than it was actual words. Georgie was the one who talked her through the agony of recovery, feeling the loss of the anger in her chest like an amputated limb, like Jon took more than just the bullet with him when he removed it. 

And when she found out how she could leave, Georgie was the first person she called. 

It had taken a lot of convincing that this was Melanie’s own choice, that she wasn’t being forced or manipulated into it, that it wasn’t part of some weird ritual to end the world. The last one somehow took the least convincing, mostly as neither of them particularly wanted to think about how that was something they had to worry about now. But once she’d been talked around, Georgie had been nothing if not completely supportive. 

Sitting in Georgie’s living room – their living room, as she had been reminded time and time again – Melanie couldn’t quite believe it was all true. She was curled up in the bay window with a cup of tea and a podcast playing, like something out of a cheesy advert. It should have been perfect, but between the frustration of living without sight and the little voice in the back of her head that was telling her that there was no way this would last, Melanie couldn’t relax. Tears pricked at her eyes that she furiously wiped away, pressing far too hard at the spaces where her eyes should have been, because of course her tear ducts still worked even if nothing else did. She could feel the hand holding the mug shaking slightly as her emotions threatened to boil over, all the frustration and anger that still lurked far under the surface, threatening to be uncovered as soon as the relief and joy ebbed, like the tide moving back to uncover something horrible and spiny lurking under the sand.

But before she could fully give in to the feelings, a sound made her jolt. The door was creaking open, but she hadn’t heard the sound of Georgie’s clearly exaggerated footsteps, which meant only one thing. The quiet pads of tiny feet that followed confirmed her suspicions.

“Hey Admiral” Melanie said quietly, her voice still slightly strained from emotions. The cat had been weirdly more friendly lately, sticking around in rooms even after she entered, rather than sprinting for the door as soon as Georgie left. This wasn’t the first time he’d actively sought her out, but usually it was only when it was his feeding time and Georgie was out of the house, and Melanie had only just heard her girlfriend shaking out dry food into a bowl and the Admiral enthusiastically scarfing it down. That could only mean then that…

“Do you want a cuddle?” she asked, dropping her hand down by her side to rest at what she assumed was around Admiral-face height. Sure enough, only seconds later, a warm furry face was pushing against her hand, rubbing up against it like she was holding catnip. Melanie couldn’t help but smile at the feeling, and decided to push her luck. She brought her hand up to her lap, rubbing her fingers together like she’d seen Georgie do so many times, accompanied with the same tsk-tsk noises people always did for cats.  
The feeling of a warm, furry weight jumping up into her lap was almost enough to make Melanie burst into tears of happiness. After a couple of false starts that mostly involved her nearly poking the cat in his ear, she found his back, stroking in long movements along the curve of his spine. The Admiral even sought her hand out with his face to snuggle up against, as if he knew she was having trouble finding it. The two of them settled into in an easy rhythm, the deep purring emanating from the cat matched by the softly whispered compliments Melanie was supplying.

The photos Georgie took later, of the two most important people in her life curled up asleep with each other, would stay as her lockscreen for months. Melanie would be none the wiser.


End file.
